We Set the Dark on Fire (We Set the Dark on Fire, #1)(19)
On the terrace, the table was set for two, each place setting far more elaborate than anything Dani had seen at school. She sat, putting her napkin in her lap, trying not to judge the silver-edged plates or the heft of the cutlery. Those aren’t Primera thoughts, she told herself sternly.
Her inner scolding was mercifully interrupted by the door to the terrace, swinging inward to reveal her husband bearing a small velvet box.
She had been braced for the cold boredom he’d shown on graduation night, but what she got was somehow stranger. When he turned, his face was mild, friendly, with no trace of the shadows she’d seen in his eyes.
“Daniela!” he said, approaching her, shaking her hand firmly. “I’m so glad we’ll finally get a chance to chat. What an overwhelming night it was when we first met.”
Dani knew it was an act; even his words seemed scripted and stiff. Even so, there was no helping it. That smile was contagious.
She smiled back.
“Not one of the calmer nights of my life,” she said, though in the grand scheme of things it had hardly been the most overwhelming.
“I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you,” Mateo replied, in a tone that made no secret of the fact that he expected her to, but he waited for her response all the same.
“Of course, se?or.”
He extended the box, its delicate hinges hiding something that surely wasn’t appropriate for a Primera. Jewelry and trinkets were Segunda gifts. But there was no doubt that this box contained something . . . decorative.
Dani gave him a cautious look of thanks tempered with mild reproach. How would it appear to others if she started her life as a Primera sporting inappropriate baubles from her husband? How would Carmen react?
“Just open it, Daniela,” Mateo said, reading her expression perfectly.
She obeyed. The lid gave way soundlessly, revealing the wide, round face of a silver wristwatch. The glass gleamed in the light of the early morning sun, the dull luster of the metal unmarred by any improper ornament.
It was beautiful. The perfect gift. Dani could feel the sparkle in her eyes, and she allowed it. He had chosen well; what was the harm in letting him know?
“May I?” Mateo removed the watch from its cushion and fastened it on Dani’s wrist without so much as brushing her skin. “I hope it will go at least a small way toward apologizing for my rudeness the other night,” he said. “As well as setting the tone for how things will be between us in the future.”
“No apology necessary, se?or,” Dani replied. Though had he really offered one? Did he have his own handbook somewhere, with interactions scripted fifty years ago? She forced her eyes from the watch to his face. Rapt attention. No hint of distraction. “No matter how common the practice, marrying a stranger is an adjustment for anyone.”
“Well said,” Mateo replied, that smile lighting up his face again. Rehearsed, but effective. “Shall we eat?”
Dani settled into her chair, continuing to watch him as he opened his newspaper and she a book on Median philosophy she’d taken from the library the night before. A Primera didn’t languish; she continued to expand her knowledge. If she could prove herself intelligent and useful, perhaps she would earn a role with a little more gravity.
In companionable silence, they waited for their breakfast to be brought in.
Mateo’s face appeared wide open, even accessible, and Dani wanted to believe this was her real husband, the man she’d be sharing her life with. But the way he’d spoken lingered in the back of her mind. This was no eager young husband on his first morning with a new bride. This was a politician. A skilled actor delivering the performance of the year for an audience of one.
The only question was, what was hiding beneath it?
“Ah, here’s breakfast,” he said when the door to the kitchen creaked slightly behind him.
Carmen pushed onto the terrace bearing a heavy tray, and the intoxicating smell that accompanied it almost made Dani forget to be irritated by her arrival. Page twelve of the household manual: on weekday mornings, breakfast was served by the Segunda. On weekends the family dined together.
“Good morning, se?or,” Carmen purred, before turning to Dani, who flinched. Carmen wouldn’t dare speak down to her in front of Mateo, would she?
“Daniela.”
That was all. Dani relaxed her shoulders a fraction of an inch.
Carmen set the tray down, her body moving more sinuously than normal, the sway of her hips and the dip of her shoulders exaggerated in her white dress. Atop her loose curls was a crown of flowers from the garden in full, fragrant bloom.
Apparently, Mateo wasn’t the only one performing this morning.
As Carmen took much longer than necessary arranging the dishes and utensils, Dani watched Mateo. His perfect husband mask was slipping, and beneath it was a predatory gleam, like the one Dani had seen on graduation night. One that said he didn’t care about propriety or the rules. One that said he intended to take what he wanted by any means necessary.
For the first time, it occurred to Dani to feel lucky that Primeras were prized only for their mental faculties—or, in Dani’s case, their ability to supervise a woman arranging newspapers. But used to their full potential or not, they were free of the burden of physical interaction. The fact had merely existed before, like the weather, or the nose on her face. But the choppy waters of that sea weren’t part of her world, and at this moment, she was thankful.